


The Charles lines

by lprock



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Falling In Love, Friendship, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Slash, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 15:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lprock/pseuds/lprock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier is a very successful columnist Caspartina magazine, a monthly publication with various topics from policy research, economic and literary analysis to everyday issues directed to the public upper middle class America. The magazine is successful, partly - but Charles does not like to accept it - is the column "The Charle's lines" - as Charles' attempt to aspiring writer "-. Everything seems to take place within the perfect balance when one day Charles climbs the stairs leading to the building of the magazine, and out see a neatly dressed man walking in a hurry. Will he work in the building?, Will a visit ?. Oh sure, sure is one of the models for the fashion pages, because with that appearance, it is perfectly logical.<br/>Charles is determined to find out who this mysterious man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Charles lines

**Author's Note:**

> This story came out as a rare combination of many things that have to Charlie and Erik at the center of everything.  
> I hope you enjoy.  
> The characters are not mine.  
> The mistakes ... yes. I apologize for them.

Charles is a columnist. To be honest, he never imagined finish the job. But can not complain, his column is very popular and was a way that their ideas could not stay on his computer and that the world should know his genius. When everything seems in balance, a mysterious man changes his life, and writing.

 

"(...) And that is how I see the last UN climate summit. It does not seem logical that many summits of world leaders staying safe on lodging are made, eat the best food and spend their days looking promises to brighten everyone, committing each of its citizens to reduce the effect on ozone. But did you leave to go to work by car? Yes, that car that you worked so hard pay- and trade it for a bicycle?, Would you buy greener elements despite its high cost ?, I do not think my friend. So I think that summits of what is not good, because as you and I do not change our attitude, will become more luxurious meetings pretending to save the world, when in fact this task is in our hands ".

* Charles F. Xavier

columnist

Ph D in Genetics

University of Oxford

Views: 234,987

 

Thus ends one of the last columns of Charles, who despite his doctorate in genetics, decided to devote himself to writing. Or try, he said trying with this type of columns discovered just over one year by one of his closest friends, Emma Frost. She had insisted that his ideas could not stay on his computer and that the world should know his genius. Emma used his "contacts" - Charles prefers not to know - to get a publication in the prestigious journal Caspartina, a monthly publication with various topics from policy research, economic and literary analysis to everyday issues directed to the public upper middle class of America. The magazine is successful, partly - but Charles does not like to accept it - is critical that the column "The Charle's lines".

When he received the first payment for its first publication Charles felt very grateful to Emma and bought her a gift, chocolates and dinner. Charles had finally posted something, but took nearly six months writing above all, his work was known for his small circle of friends and his computer. Having published in that magazine gave hope to continue writing. The first column received a good rating by executives of the magazine. One Friday morning, 08:06 were cold and rainy when the phone rang. Charles took his hand groping the damn phone when it reached replied with a lost voice.

"Hello?" He said, his arm froze and just wanted to end the call to follow in the warmth of his bed.

"Good Morning. Is Mr. Charles Xavier?, asked a sweet female voice on the other side, Charles was confused. Confused and very sleepy because they stayed up until four o'clock writing some ideas.

"Yes," replied settling on one elbow to try to sit back and his voice did not sound so lazy.

"I'm calling for the magazine Caspartina, we would like to know if you can meet us at three o'clock this afternoon" asked the friendly voice.

Charles sat bolt upright and all the dream I had is gone.

"Sure, Is there a problem? Because I already cashed the paycheck and-- "stuttered.

"Do not worry, Mr. Xavier, no problem, but the reason for their meeting alone can be communicated to you at the meeting, which from what I heard and accepted," replied the voice in a soothing tone.

"Okay, it'll be there at three," he replied.

"Well, then this afternoon when you get reception, ask for Moira and I will gladly take you to the meeting room. I see then, "Moira said goodbye.

Charles was sitting on his bed, shirtless and skin had begun to cool.

He dropped the phone and he was already excited about the meeting, Moira - that was her name - had told him not to worry so decided to get up. He left the bed and the cold hit his naked body - yes, naked, for so liked to sleep - his way to the bathroom.

While under the caress of hot water, Charles thought with hope in the call. Could it be an opportunity for you to work as a writer, finally, after so many months?. After completing his Ph.D., Charles wanted more than just investigate theories and remain in a laboratory, wanted to express himself and decided to take time to explore that side of his life, without the pressure of his studies, he spent most of the day to read, write and keep writing. When he moved in book clubs met a few friends, including Emma, an advisory fashion magazines, she coordinated photo shoots for many of the most important publications. Then there was Alex Summers and Armando Muñoz, two friends from high school who had dropped out of university to engage in street art, or rather, take objects from the street and turn them into works of art that were bought by eccentric moneybags.

With all the creativity around him, Charles was more than happy, at times forgot the idea of trying to meet someone with whom to share their dreams and longings, their worldview and life, and also have sex, because Charles always had struggled to physically connect with someone just because wanted to touch each other's feelings and melt in your body ... but that had not happened since college. To his misfortune, his last couple just wanted sex and nothing more. Charles walked away and decided to follow his principles and his life. So he came to New York looking to follow their instincts.

With all the excitement, Charles could not eat and went to the headquarters of the magazine in the city center. A 50- storey building loomed. In it, besides the magazine, were linked to major business publication.

When he arrived at the reception asked by Moira, who was waiting with a pink two-piece suit, one brown hair tied in a ponytail highlighted his fine features. Her warm smile made Charles calms down a bit as they headed to one of the meeting rooms in the intermediate floors.

Moira greeted with kindness to colleagues, she was the assistant editor, with whom Charles would interview. Moira had no details of the meeting more than cordial greetings and small talk as they arrived.

When they reached their destination, Moira knocked on the door and entered. "Mr. McCoy, Mr. Xavier is here," she said kindly inviting Charles to enter.

Charles walked with slow steps and greeted.

"Good afternoon Charles Xavier", held out his hand to shake with Hank.

"Hank McCoy, nice to meet you, please call me Hank," said young man. Charles could tell they had almost the same age. Young and fresh image of Hank did not seem to a head, surely must be very competent for the position, he thought.

"I hope I have been unwise to summon you to a meeting so quickly, but I needed to talk to you," said

"Of course not, Hank will always be a pleasure," said Charles.

"The purpose of this meeting is to discuss your column, we found it very interesting and the audience liked," he said without further rodeo. Charles leaned back in his seat across the desk from Hank who held a similar seat.

"What we propose is that you are a regular columnist for the magazine, you will have greater benefits regardless of payment for your work," continued Hank. Charles had to process what he heard, finally found a place to express as a writer.

"Sure, you'll have to attend meetings periodically to coordinate work, propose your ideas and meet the team", he continued.

Charles wanted to jump out of his seat, but keep his composure and answered.

"Sure, I'd be willing, this is a very prestigious magazine and would like to be part of the team," he said with a smile.

"I'm glad to hear it, had prepared several arguments to convince you, but I'm glad you decided to work with us, and needless to say you can count on my support for what you need," said Hank. At that time Charles was sure that his life would change and that he had found a friend.

Scheduled meetings were held once a week for ideas columnists are raised and progress of the themes of other sections coordinated.

Thus the final product would be methodically prepared to meet readers and, of course, investors of publication.

In the meetings was to know the team members was Moira, who was commissioned to present to all editors, including Sean, who handled the area of finance, and Angel covered entertainment area. The rest were journalists and researchers working every day in the magazine.

As they passed meetings, Charles felt more affinity with some team members, liked to write about their topics and that passion was shared by Charles.

Column after column, Charles was earning the respect of his peers and the public reacted to his work, which resulted in sales of the magazine in its physical and digital versions very well.

"The lines of Charle's", after a year had become a favorite of many, that made his salary increases for greater recognition for that work.

Charles knew almost all workers in the magazine, because not having the pressure of time, could take the liberty to chat with them in the time available before or after the weekly meetings.

It was Friday again, he approached noon and Charles liked cafeteria food magazine, not only for food, but because it was accompanied with the rest of the team.

Everything seems to take place within the perfect balance ... one day when Charles had dressed with whatever he found: a worn jeans and a gray sweatshirt. Charles climbs the stairs leading to the building of the magazine, and out 'sees a neatly dressed man walking in a hurry.

Charles felt that everyone around him stopped, got caught by the image of the man in a gray suit with brown hair shining in the sunlight.

Charles stopped and saw that the man approached, he was with another dark hair, but who cares about the other, Charles could not stop looking at it, memorize every line, every movement while walking. The man was reviewing its tablet and a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Charles felt a shock, flash, electric shock, did not know it was, but it was certainly the most disconcerting feeling he had felt.

When it seemed that the man stopped and looked at him, his companion took his arm and led him into a vehicle with tinted windows.

Charles saw him and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket Hank and equipment already waiting for lunch. When he finished reading the message rushed into the building.

When Charles entered the elevator could not help wondering where it came from someone so amazing.

Will he work in the building?, Will a visit ?. Oh sure, sure is one of the models for the fashion pages, because with that appearance, it is perfectly logical.

Charles had memorized the man's features, a chiseled face and a look with clear eyes, that even though tried to remember, could not say whether they were green or blue, or gray???

The slim and trim figure of man was perfect, his clothes, though it is finest, it seemed sinful to hide undoubtedly perfect body of the man.

During lunch not pay attention to what happens around you, or what you eat, because he can not stop thinking about the man. It was as if from nowhere finish all his thoughts on him. I had so many questions to see if you could find it again, it was frustrating.

Charles is determined to find out who this mysterious man.

That night Charles can not read, can not sleep, can not stop thinking about this mysterious man. Has so much to to express that the words seem to drown, he had to find a way to let flow all those thoughts. Once Emma had mentioned the words, to live, need to be communicated, heard by someone, but his life objective is not met and them, however beautiful they may be, die of loneliness. That's what Charles did not. Did not want his words contained die and did not want solitude, because after a while he found interest in a real human being (yes, so in patheticsounded) outside of their research and fictional characters.

It was three in the morning, and Charles turned on the computer and started writing.

In a blank document, he began writing, letting the words flow free.

DOC 1

How begin to express this. Well, I do not know. It lived my life quietly, until one day my eyes found one of the most exquisite creation figures. Were you, in your silver light bathing suit with your beautiful hair and your face was one of the most perfect I had seen in my life, oh. Am I starting to sound corny? Ok I give you the reason that, because since I saw you I can not get out of my mind.

The brain has several areas in which stores various types of memories, but in your case, I think your memory is invading all areas of my brain causing thousands of thoughts in an instant.

Your glance has me intrigued, had been closer, I'd known with certainty, but your eyes are blue or green ?, or both ?.

I want to write more, but the synapses of my brain cells fails to capture in words the whirlwind of feelings I have right now.

I wonder who you are.

I do not know. But I'm sure I want to know.

... ........................

There, as he wrote it, save the document and went to sleep.

Rather, tried to close my eyes and the first thing he found was the persistent image of his unknown. I imagined what his voice, if he had an accent, whether it be soft or loud.

He thought about what he would like to do in your free time, if he was fond of reading, or entertainment or sports.

Also imagine if he would couple (him or her. He prayed consciously it was a "him" ... and if it was begging, pleading because it is free).

Damn. That thought led to another headed straight to the south.

His cock had begun to notice the enormous interest that memory caused him, and when Charles realized he had an erection throbbing, the rustle of sheets further encouraged those thoughts.

Charles was carried away with their memories, thinking about having the lips of his unknown in his cock. The heat was increased in his body and began to caress, slowly at first, and then the pace accelerated to boot gasps and erratic breaths Charles.

The image of man as elegant excited so that was enough to come hard.

His breathing was difficult and while relaxed, lost in the climax, he thought that the idea of writing his thoughts was not all bad.

He got up from the bed, the cold breeze hit your body, moisture from your skin immediately cooled. Then he opened his initial document and continued writing.

CONT

You, you are at fault in one of the best orgasms of my life, who spent about three minutes ago. It might sound pathetic, again, but it is. Just having remember his perfect presence, his features - so hot - it was enough to have satisfied my cock.

I guess I sound vulgar, but I can only imagine how it looks his naked body as his moans are heard, how you feel your skin against mine when we make love in front of my door.

.......................................

What the hell is wrong with me? Charles Francis Xavier, I'm just writing what you think and you're hard again, who are you, a teen? ... The thoughts were so strong that by now was impossible to ignore the unknown.

It was not much really, Charles was quieter, but still needed to publish. He googled some options and found a new place, seemingly popular, where people posted their thoughts, photos, videos and everything they could think of, was open and it was simple register without thinking time was recorded and opened.

"Thoughts ... because of you"

"A site dedicated to express my feelings for you, my unknown"

and identifying a signed simply X

In addition he had made sure that no way to contact you or identify and people could comment, and share inputs by social networks.

The page was simple, a black screen, white letters and that was all, simplicity to the fullest.

The font was anyone but the Times New Roman, beyond that, there was nothing else.

Charles decided to sleep a bit to work - in their real work - the next day.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Las líneas de Charles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177743) by [lprock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lprock/pseuds/lprock)




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